


Beginnings

by Trekgloria



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-22 14:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13169013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trekgloria/pseuds/Trekgloria
Summary: Margaret is the local working woman in the town, her introduction to plying her trade and that night with Ross.





	Beginnings

Beginnings 

Summary:  
Margaret is the local working woman in the town, her introduction to plying her trade and that night with Ross.

The ball tonight meant few men worth her time would come to the inn looking for the seduction Margaret offered. Instead of plying her charms for the scant patrons nursing their gin, Margaret sat alone, watching the street. Perhaps a gentleman would leave early, rebuffed when pursing a young lady, rejected for his lack of wealth or connection by the shrewd parents. There was always a man disheartened and that was for who Margaret waited. An expert at knowing those spurned or a man just seeking to bed a woman, Margaret, carefully evaluated each and selected the most malleable client. That was the sort of man to whom Margaret would offer her attentions.  
It only took a few drinks, some little flattery, smiles, a soft touch, and whispered promises before the man would beg for her time, her attention, her willingness to slake his every desire, to grant his every whim. Little did these men know, Margaret routinely used a small simple to send them into a slumber long before they saw more than her breasts. Only a few men were worth her time to grant them sex. After a few hours’ sleep they'd rouse, watching her dress and she'd thank them for their pay carefully removed from their pockets and left on the table. Margaret never placed more than was expected, though reminding them of how well they satisfied her each time they took her, some put a few shillings more down. To ensure they left, Margaret would remind them it was late, they had exhausted her, and she didn't want to embarrass them being seen with her. The draught Margaret gave the men had the effect of leaving them unable to perform for several days. Thus her clients assumed their talents had been well and truly shared with her multiple times. On quiet nights like this Margaret reflected on her life.

Margaret's chosen livelihood was one of the few options available to her. Raised by her grandmother, the local wise woman after her mother died during her birth, Margaret possessed beauty and the ability to divine human nature. Though her mother had often experienced pregnancy from her liaisons, each was swept each away with a purgative of common rue, birthwort, hellbore, pennyroyal, and tansy. Yet the one pregnancy her mother refused to end resulted in Margaret's birth. Why Margaret never knew and grammy refused to answer even if she did know. Had her mother been secretly in love with that man, or had she intended to use the child, if a boy, as a bartering tool, or had she simply wanted a child herself. Unable to withstand the demands of childbirth, her womb so frequently emptied before it's time, and in spite of the knowledge of her grammy, Margaret survived but her mother did not, dead within a few hours after giving birth from blood loss.

It was grammy who taught her the recipes. As the local wise woman, the villagers sought grammy to provide a healing draught for many illnesses or attend a woman in a difficult birth if the local midwife could not manage. For the poorest in the community, no doctor ever arrived, not that medical training could save any of those women. If a birth took too long, the energy expended in labor, the poor health of the woman, perhaps her age, or just an incompatible child grown over large for the body to expel would result in death for both. If though, grammy was called before the labor drained the life from the woman, she could do one thing, insert a curette and hook, and bit by bit break the babe into pieces and pull it out. This was a dangerous task, not only would the babe be killed, but the mother might not survive the procedure, and if caught the person who performed the act would be charged as a murderer with a sentence that carried certain death.

For Margaret, this knowledge proved useful, but she had no desire to save other women's lives. For all the saving and relieving her grammy provided, few spoke a kind word, nor visited unless desperate for help. While out attending the villagers, Margaret saw the fear most people felt when grammy arrived. Fear of losing their mother, daughter, or sister, for grammy was only called to attend on the women never to heal the men. The men always seemed to be away from home, only the elderly men, too old to provide any service or young boys not yet in breeches would remain.

However, one day when grammy sent her to fetch some fresh milk from the goats Margaret encountered a young man at the edge of the village. Fair and well groomed, he looked nothing like the local boys Margaret often passed around the villages. Ridding a large roan horse, this gentleman called her to direct him towards the road to Truro. Margaret didn't know and said as much. With that he jumped down from the horse and raised his whip to strike her. However, Margaret saw the fabric and cut of his clothes and intrigued by such finery stepped towards him. This interest in him brought a smile to his face. Lowering his whip he asked her name. Knowing well not to reveal too much, she answered Alice. An idea formed and he asked had she never been to Truro or ridden a horse, and would she like to ride his. Aware of grammy waiting, Margaret answered not just now, but if he could wait a bit, she'd return. As she ran back with the milk, he took his horse to the trough for a drink.  
Quickly Margaret returned and stated she was ready for a ride. Hoisting her up on the back of the beast, he walked along the track towards the beach. Once there, he tethered the horse and guided her down to the dunes. It was a fair day, warm, and no one was about. Smiling at her, he pulled her down on the dune and ran his hand along her jaw. He called her pretty, and Margaret knew the men and boys of her village were paying more attention to her lately, but the fear of grammy kept them at bay. Suddenly this attention by a handsome young man was thrilling. Margaret began to want something, yet she knew not what. Turning her face to his this young man, he kissed her. Holding her head tightly against his, Margaret thought it was painful and she wanted to pull away, but he held her fast. When he broke from her mouth, Margaret looked at him and asked: "What do you want?"

Surprised he stammered: "Nothing, nothing at all."

But Margaret knew differently, he wanted something from her. Was it finally the years of hearing stories told by the women about the men and how they behaved and what they were willing to do? Or was her young body, only 14 finally beginning to respond to nature. Only six months ago, her breasts had swelled and her monthly flow began. With that change, grammy had questioned Margaret about any encounters with boys or men, if there had been any, she must tell her immediately. Margaret had truthfully responded no, not really understanding why it was so important. But today, Margaret felt something in her loins, a gnawing to know what it was the women spoke about that the men desired and of what her grammy feared.

Margaret smiled at him and reclined on the dune, her breasts taut against the thin fabric of her dress. Looking at her he wanted to take her now, he was aching and thought his cock would explode. He could taste metal in his mouth and knew he needed to do something fast. Putting his hand on her breast, Margaret smiled at him and arched her back against the palm. Pulling the laces of her bodice loose, one breast escaped, an ivory orb with a hard nipple was exposed. Mesmerized, he moved his hand to cup it, to squeeze and see how she responded, a slight gasp left her lips and girl arched her body and tilted her head back. Her throat and breasts, so white, wherever he touched a mark remained and then slowly faded. Squeezing harder, he lowered his mouth to take the nipple between his lips. 

Somewhere in his mind an old memory surfaced, of a woman who would hold him tight against her bosom and rock him when he was sad. On occasion if his hurt was bad enough he'd whimper and the woman would out take out a breast and allow him to suckle. Long dry, the memory of when she provided the nourishment and comfort he needed was still satisfying sucking at her pap. Burying his nose in the sagging flesh, he'd squeeze the other, sucking, sucking, sucking, trying to acquire one drop more. After a bit, comforted, he'd released the nipple. The last time he was 10, the other boys at school had humiliated him, and she’d allowed him this pleasure. That time he felt a new sensation, something so different. He'd pushed her down and ground himself on her belly. Suddenly he shuddered and felt something escape his cock. Embarrassed he'd wet himself, he pulled from her and ran away. Though the feeling had awakened him, he'd not returned to her for comfort since nor had any he experienced any woman. But often, at night when his cock became so hard, he'd think of taking her pap in his mouth and suckling till that release came again. 

Today, that desire turned from the need born in pain to a desire arising in his groin. He knew what the older boys at school bragged about and he longed to join their ranks and share how he'd taken a pretty young woman, even been her first. The thought of being the first to take her excited him. Sucking harder, instinct guided him, and he hiked the girl's skirt up to her waist. Gazing at her crotch, her bloomers open, he saw her mound lightly fringed with hair. Placing his hand against it, he pushed and rubbed. His finger slipping in her sheath, she was wet. His own anticipation was building, and he moved to open his breeches. While fumbling, Margaret sought to assist him, in a moment he was exposed and saw his cock hard for a woman. Margaret took it in her hand and within an instant he released his seed on her leg. The initial feeling of pleasure as he experienced this sensation was quickly replaced by fear; of being embarrassed and ashamed. Pushing her away, he stood adjusting his now limp cock back in his breeches. Looking at her lying there, proof of his failure on her legs. Never speak of this again he'd said to her, tossed a guinea on her belly, and hurried up the cliff, leaving Margaret exposed and wondering what had happened.

But, a coin, for truly Margaret had never seen anything but shillings and pennies, this was exciting. Looking at what he'd left behind, Margaret used some dune grass to wipe the evidence away. Rising, she walked back to the village where grammy was waiting. It was a successful though trying birth, but mother and child had a chance. Several draughts and instructions were left and they returned home. That night Margaret shared the story and showed grammy the coin. The old woman, immediately made a drink and bade her to take it, no matter what Margaret said, she could take no chance the girl might be with child. Sure enough by the next morning blood indicated her womb was empty. Grammy then began to teach Margaret how to prepare the necessary simples to use.

As Margaret reflected on this introduction to her livelihood, the door opened and the man she'd been waiting for walked in. Brooding, tall, he moved to the bar ordered a bottle and sat hunched over the table raw and angry. Here was one she would need to cajole to get his emotions into a desire for her services she thought, but a good game it would be. Approaching, she began her natural banter, yet quickly Margaret realized who he was, a captain, his commission earned by bravery, recently returned from the war, jilted by his upper-class love, all but paupered, the whole town knew of his history. Everyone had expected him to either leave the country or take the woman he loved away from her husband, and yet he had done neither. Instead, he'd simply returned to his family's estate and tried to settle in. Most of the gentry gave him wide berth, his name commanded respect, but he sought little from the members of his own class. Instead this captain often spent his time working in his fields and mines alongside his tenants.  
Suddenly he grabbed her arm and said; "I am in need of but one service tonight." 

His grip was tight but Margaret was excited by this man, his mystery, his looks, and commanding presence. Upstairs, Margaret realized this man was far from drunk, some sort of madness seemed to possess him and also, that she desired him. There would be no draught to send him to sleep before he took her, she was excited by his handsome face, his raw sexual needs, and the mystery of his story. No, tonight she would take pleasure from him. Though Margaret found few men worth her time and energy, occasionally one moved her and she gave into that desire to satisfy herself.

Ross quickly removed his jacket, neckerchief, and vest. She pushed him to the bed, and pulled off his boots and socks, then knelt and began to unbutton his shirt. He sat with his eyes half closed, and drew ragged shallow breaths. Instead of commanding, he seemed dazed, allowing her to remove his shirt. Margaret stood and undid her dress and allowed it to slip to the floor, next her petticoat, leaving her naked. She pulled his head to her belly and tousled his curls. The woman who threw him over was a fool Margaret thought. This was a man, to be wanted and needed by him was worth forsaking the larger house and status.

Ross roused from the smell of her and the feeling of her skin on his face. Slowly he rose, she barely reached his shoulder. Ross could feel her breasts, firm with her nipples so hard pressing against his chest. Squeezing her shoulders, he held her tight against his body. With his eyes closed he could almost imagine it wasn't the village woman, but Elizabeth whom he still craved and desired above all others. Would that ache and wanting never end? Every day he threw himself into hard physical work, trying to exhaust himself, to find an ease to that passion. But each day Ross woke and remembered Elizabeth, how she had felt in his arms, her smell, the way she held his gaze before blushing, then dropping her eyes, and how her smile seemed to beg him to take her. But that had been years before.

But this woman was not Elizabeth, he could do what he wanted, experience all the embraces he'd imagined would be his one day. He could satisfy his lust, slake his need to feel his seed explode inside this woman, and maybe tomorrow the craving for Elizabeth would finally end. Maybe tomorrow...the thought floated away as the demands of his yearnings took over.

Margaret reached her arms around Ross and pulled him towards her, rising on tip toe she whispered; "My Lord, what would you have me do to satisfy you?"  
The pain of years of desire without any release became his only focus. No man should forgo coupling for so long. He was not a monk, he had no wife who needed rest from sharing the nuptial bed. Ross realized he was wasting his life on something that could never be. He'd let her go without so much as a word, now it was time for him to move beyond waiting for her. Grasping her head in his hands, Ross kissed her and imagined she was Elizabeth. Moving her hands down his back, Margaret reached his buttocks and squeezed. They were tight and muscular from his long hours of work and riding. Pulling away from him, she sank on her knees and took his hard cock in her hand. This was something Margaret rarely offered to any of her clients. It was too personal, to intimate, and she found few worthy of her time and effort. But this man was different, he was desirable and her lust was palatable. She placed her lips on the head and licked it. Hearing Ross moan Margaret took him further into her mouth. Placing her hands on his buttocks, she pressed him tight within her. Margaret felt him respond as he pushed against her. Holding her head Ross allowed her to slide her mouth along the shaft.

It had been so long since he'd had a woman, so long. The war had separated them, but it was his love for Elizabeth, respect, holding himself above such carnal desire all for her memory. Yet when Ross returned home, he discovered Elizabeth had not waited for him, but was engaged to his cousin, a commitment from which she never broke. Still, his heart wanted her more than his body needed another until tonight. Dancing with Elizabeth at the ball, her brief touches, longing glances, and Ross was as smitten with her as the first time they met. How could one man desire and pine for someone for so long? She was like a returning fever, never cured; just managed. Still Ross was ashamed of his continued obsequience to her. Elizabeth clearly did not love him, if she ever had, for she had moved on, and yet every time they were together, her eyes reinforced his belief she still wanted him. But no, Elizabeth seemed satisfied with her decision, her life, perhaps she had never loved him, and Ross had mistook her attentions for more than she really felt.

But this woman now, tempting him, sucking, the intensity of that sensation for the moment was dispelling his thoughts of Elizabeth. As Margaret took his cock further in her mouth he relaxed and succumbed to the instinct that was building. Rising from his scrotum Ross felt his seed rush and explode inside her mouth. With each contraction the pain and anger diminished, this was the release he needed Moaning, he swayed and his cock slipped out of her mouth. Margaret rose and stood against him, holding him tight, pressing her body against his from her breasts to his groin. With this release his legs buckled and Ross fell onto the bed. Margaret joined him and they moved to the pillow. Ross closed his eyes, unable to face this woman who had offered him more satisfaction in a few minutes than all the time he'd known of his love for Elizabeth, the woman who left him as soon as she thought he'd died. Lying there, his body relaxed Ross slipped into a fitful sleep.

Margaret, waited for a bit, then began to stimulate him in his sleep. She knew well what to do to excite a man. Her very livelihood depended on her knowledge of men, their body, as well as their wants and needs. Soon, his cock was quite hard and ready for another go. She rolled on top of him and within a few seconds Margaret had his cock inside her.

His body responded to the pleasure. Ross opened his eyes and looked at her, felt the pleasure as she slid on his cock, and how hard he was again, aching for relief. Grabbing her by the waist, Ross began to take control, pulling her hard and grinding her on his groin then lifting her till he almost slipped out of her sheath. Pounding her like this, she began to writhe and moan, calling out "Mi Lord" with every thrust. Suddenly he flipped her over on her knees and mounted her from behind. Now he had complete control over his rhythm and began to hold her hips tightly, pushing in hard, and withdrawing slowly, controlling each stroke. Somehow he could not imagine this raw coupling with Elizabeth. Ross imagined their union would always have been face to face, stroking her hair, calling her name, watching her respond each time he entered her, wanting to see her face as she smiled at him, hear her call his name in love and desire for only him. For a moment, Ross wondered how Elizabeth responded to Francis. Was she satisfied, did she call Francis' name, want him to take her again and again? The thought was maddening, here he was satisfying himself with another woman and still the thought of Elizabeth plagued his mind. What had been a young girl's promise those years ago, was as enchanting and desirable as ever for Ross.

The pleasure to enter a woman, one who seemed to want him was intoxicating. He heard Margaret moan and pant and beg him to ease her desire. Ross reached the point and released his seed inside her. Rolling off, he once again closed his eyes to hide from his imagined sin against Elizabeth. Margaret, pulled herself against him and offered the comfort of her body, so pliant and willing. Lying there, satiated Ross again slipped into a deep sleep.

In the morning awake, Margaret watched him sleep and was reminded of the statues of angels in the local church When he roused, she began to speak to him of his wants and desires. She seemed to know far too much about him. Ross sat up, in the stark sunlight. His desire and passion for Elizabeth returned. This encounter, as satisfying as it had been did not banish his passion for his first love. Ross had slaked his body's need for a woman, but his heart and mind still craved Elizabeth. Chagrined, Ross rose, dressed, dropped several coins on the table, and left the room quickly.

Margaret smiled, she'd been quite satisfied by him, well worth the investment of her time. Still her mind returned to the first man who'd spilled his seed on her legs. Some years later, after she'd moved to Truro, Margaret often encountered him, though he did not recall her, but George Warlaggen often stared at her as if trying to understand why she made him feel insecure. And Margaret remembered him as a faltering boy so different from this man.


End file.
